And if the phone rang
by scholastik
Summary: A phone call canon suggested but didn't show ... Spoilers until 504 Birth Marks


**Title**: And if the phone rang ...  
**Author**: scholastik  
**Beta**: Lola Lauriestein and I'm so grateful for this :)  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Until 504 Birthmark  
**Disclaimer**: House MD and its character don't belong to me. But for once the -no so great- title does.

**Summary****: **A phone call canon suggested but didn't show ...

**N/A**: Feedback is more than welcomed (even if you think I should have drink vodka instead of writing) and I want to thank Lola again who corrected my crappy English. :)

Oh and I wrote this in Moscow ... so this is a little exotic for me far from the Huddy I usually write, exploring a character I don't like that much.

The call had come at eleven that morning. He was still pretty out, he woke up really late these days, figured it was rhe easiesr way to make days go faster. Not that he had anything to look forward to. Of course he had tried to get new habbbits, much closer he could come to a new life, grief group, talks with Cameron, new supermaket, new hotel room. When nothing had really clicked he had figured he would be better leaving the city, his patients and ... House. Because he knew deep down that Princeton would never feel right without him and he also knew that he couldn't carry on leaving things unchanged.

When he first heard the ring, he thought it was Cuddy, she had called a couple of times. Trying to change his mind, then offering the comfort she thought he needed. That's why he hadn't answered right. If Cuddy had something important to tell him, she would try again. Later. He hadn't expected her to do it this fast though. Maybe it was really important. God knows he wasn't ready to deal with something complicated but curiosity get the best of him and he reached for his mobile phone. He frowned when he didn't recognized the voice which was talking:

"James?"

"Yes?"

It was a woman's voice, middled-aged, filled with sadness.

"This Blythe, Blythe House"

Right. In a ten-year old firendship with House, he had met his parents only two times : one Christmas, when Stacy was still around and after the infarction. There hadn't been enough communication for them to bond a friendship. There barely had been enough communication for him to remember her name.

"You're still here?"

The woman sounded a little frightened, like she was afraid of disturbing him. And now that he thought about it. There could be only one or two reasons she would call him. He prayed to God, nothing had happened to House he coudn't go through two funerals in a row.

"Yes I'm still here, excuse me, Mrs House. Did something happen ?"

He could still hear her voice drope a little when she answered :

"Greg didn't tell you ? John died last night. A heart thing ... Doctors said they couldn't have done anything ."

"I'm so sorry"

It was the only thing he thoughtof saying. He still couldn't figure out why she had called him and he was also wondering what they would tell in Grief Group. "My former best friend's father is dead". At least it was novelty. Something they didn't have the chance to discuss about between the "I still can't sleep on his/her side of the bed" and "I can't clean the dishes"

"Funeral is in two days. I left a message to Greg and tried to reach him on his cell, but he must be too busy with a case ..."

There was some sort of hope in her voice something Wilson couldn't bring himself to crush. And although , he was well aware that even bored to death House would do anything to avoid a situation including personnal emotions, he answered with a vague :

"I couldn't tell, I've less at the hospital lately. But I'm sure he'll call you as soon as he gets a chance"

And here he was, lying for him again, worse for being associated with him. Giving false hope to a recently widowed woman who had unfortunately a selfish bastard as a son.

"Yes James. But I'm not sure he'll do it in time. I really want him to be here delivering a Eulogy. Can you tell him that, when you'll run into him."

"I'm ... I mean ... sure I could do it, but are sure he is the right person to do it ?"

"Of course he is, he is his son! Nobody can do that better than him."

There was hurt in her voice, something Wilson knew too weel. Something which stopped him from saying that there was absolutely no chance he would run into House. And that no matter what she believed a man who couldn't deliver a five-minute speech about a medication was more than unlikely to write and deliver a proper Eulogy about a man he despised more than anything in the world.

"So would you tell him?"

She was pleading. He knew she would never ask him to insist or convince, but he also knew that saying yes meant feeling responsible. Be responsible for House's actions. Exactly what he had tried to stop. His brain knew better than the rationalization he was inventing. He couldn't kid himself into thinking he was just helping a grieving woman. It was, what he would tell if anybody asks though.

"Yes I'll tell him"

"Thank you James"

"I'm really sorry for your loss Mrs House"

Again, the same empty words, he had thought when you went through death you knew what to say to people in pain but he really didn't. He was walking on eggshells hesitating with every word. Blythe seemed to have understand this because he heard a click at the other side of the line.

That's where troubles were , maybe there was still someway for him not to get involved . If only House could act like a grown-up for once.

But for now what he had to do was really clear. He dialed a well-known number on his phone and heard really quickly :

"You've reached Dr Lisa Cuddy's office, how can I help you ?"


End file.
